


Promise

by Bdragond



Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 1987)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdragond/pseuds/Bdragond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young abused girl is found in the underground world of the tunnel dwellers and learns how it is to be loved.  Vincent learns what it means to love a special child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic I wrote and had published in a fanzine in 1989 called Faded Roses. I wrote under my then married name. i am now posting it as my member name.

Promise   
by Bdragond

In the deeper recesses of the secret underground world, lying beneath the streets of New York City...so deep that the inhabitants of Father’s community are seldom, if ever, seen there....Mouse stood watch in an indentation, pressed against the rocky cavern wall. Cautiously he peered around the edge of that recess, staying just out of sight, trying very hard not to breathe....as if that slight sound might be detected.

On a small rocky shelf near the cavern opening, a single apple had been placed. For what would have seemed to most mortals an unbearable length of time, though all was silent and still, Mouse waited; watching. Making no sound. He did not mind the length of his vigil, for he had no real concept of time, his patience was rewarded. A smallish human hand with long, slender fingers slowly inched its way toward the apple from behind a dark crevice. 

The ledge upon which the apple sat was just fare enough out of reach that the hand was forced to move around the edge of the cavern’s entrance, coming half way into Mouse’s view. Still, he was only about to see one scratched, bruised, barefooted slim leg protruding from a pair of dirty shorts. The part of the head that was visible to Mouse was covered with a mass of dark, tangled, matted hair which fell roughly to the shoulders, and was hanging across the face to conceal its features. The little human was, Mouse guessed, only as tall as his chest.

The scruffy figure stood stock still for a moment, making sure that no one was around. Suddenly, with a movement almost too fast to detect, the short human snatched the apple and disappeared. Mouse heard diminishing, uneven footsteps rapidly moving deeper into the tunnel.

A broad smile broke out across his face. “Okay, good! Okay fine!” Mouse exclaimed with a nod of his head.

________________________________

“What troubles your heart so tonight?” Vincent asked as they stood together on Catherine’s balcony.

Catherine moved a little closer to him, placing her hands upon his massive chest. “A girl I went to high school with is laying in a hospital bed, dying, Vincent; I found out today.”

“I am sorry. Was she very close to you?” 

“No....more’s the pity perhaps. She never really had any friends....even before she began playing with drugs. She was addicted by the time we reached the tenth grade. So now...now she is suffering and I can’t help wondering if perhaps I had just taken the time back then to get to know her better; to be more friendly to her; if....”

“If perhaps she would not have resorted to drugs and she would not need to die now?” Vincent finished for her. Catherine nodded, and he held her close. “Catherine, hindsight is to no avail. Worrying about what you did or did not do in the past accomplishes nothing. It is what you do now that truly matters.”  
Catherine smiled. “I know. That’s why I thought I’d go and see her. Maybe I can help make her last days a little happier. You see, she was different from the others in a lot of ways and she never quite fit in. I shunned her too...just like the rest of the crowd. Then the drugs started....” her eyes saddened deeply. “I didn’t realize back then, as I do now, that being different is not such a bad thing.”

Vincent and Catherine looked into each other’s eyes. No words were spoken, but in their hearts they felt a mutual empathy. And each other’s love.

____________________________

“Mouse, Father would like to speak to you,” Jamie announced as she entered Mouse’s chamber.

“No, no, no! No good! Not now!” Mouse answered irritable as he shoved a pair of quilted trousers into an already over stuffed cloth sack. “No time! Too much to do.”

“What is it Mouse?” Jamie inquired. She knew it was no use trying to convince Mouse to go to Father now. He was extremely preoccupied with his present venture.

Mouse turned, looking at Jamie with an undecided expression on his face, then smiled and shook his head. “OK good....OK fine....Tell you...no one else. Must be secret...OUR secret...for now. maybe tell Vincent later. Vincent’s my best friend.”

“Tell what Mouse?” Jamie’s voice was calm and tender. Of all the tunnel dwellers she knew and loved, Mouse held a special place in her heart.

Mouse looked around as if to be sure no one was eavesdropping. “Found someone” he whispered, “a girl...way down...almost to the new spring.”

“We must tell Vincent and father at once!” Jamie exclaimed, forgetting Mouse’s admonition of keeping it a secret.

“Not now! Later!” Mouse was adamant. “Very scared...hungry. Taking food...clothes,” he held up the sack, “won’t come to me yet...soon. Then tell.”

Jamie agreed with a nod of her head. She knew sometimes when a youngster was found it was often days or even weeks before they trusted anyone. She remembered the story of how Mouse lived among them, elusively at first, stealing bits of food here and there until Vincent finally caught him. Oh how he kicked and screamed but eventually he learned to trust them all, thanks to Vincent’s gentle ways. There was that about Vincent which instilled a sense of calm in even the most fearful, despite his fierce looking countenance.

Mouse took hold of Jamie’s shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jamie agreed but as Mouse left, a thought came to her; She promised not to tell but she didn’t promise she would not follow.

_____________________________

Jamie stopped a little way behind Mouse and stood silently watching as Mouse carefully placed the clothing on the rocky shelf. Next to these, he placed half a loaf of homemade bread and a roughly broken hunk of cheese. He took a moment to make sure everything was placed as he wanted it then slowly backed away, not turning in Jamie’s direction until he was past the corner that would hide him from sight of any who came to the shelf.

As he turned, Mouse stopped, staring at Jamie. However, instead of showing anger toward her as some might, he smiled at her; then pressed a single finger to his lips, cautioning her to be silent. He motioned her against the wall of the cavern where he joined her, once again taking up a silent vigil.

This time the wait was not long. Mouse and Jamie soon saw the same hand with the slender fingers that Mouse had seen on his last visit to this cavern. The dark haired human came out a little more into view and Jamie was not surprised to see an extremely thin, frail looking girl. Just how young could not yet be determined, But Jamie guessed the child was somewhere around 10 to 12 years old.

Jamie had seen it before in many of the members of their society when they first came to join them; the frailness, the thinness that comes from weeks, sometimes even months, of little or no food. The girl before her now was greatly emaciated. Her hair, which was badly matted, concealed so much of her face that Jamie could not be completely sure whether she looked straight forward or in their direction.

As the child slowly took uneven steps toward the offering left her, the girl’s head turned this way and that; rapidly; warily. Jamie and Mouse saw her step on what must have been a painful bare and torn foot. Then as the young girl took another step which brought her other leg into view, Jamie’s eyes widened. The child’s left leg ended in a stump about two inches below the knee. Fastened to the stump with straps and a sling was a worn, splintered wooden peg, similar to those described in the pirate stories Jamie had read.

First the girl picked up the bread, eating ravenously at it, then the same with the cheese. She ate so rapidly and took such large mouthful that Jamie feared she might choke. Soon though the child laid the food back on the rock and fingered the clothing. She pulled the tunic on over her filthy shirt and picked up the pants.

Mouse felt the need to look a little closer. As he moved, however, so did some loose gravel. The slight noise that ensued was all it took. Like a rabbit, the girl bolted, hopping away in a flash. Mouse nearly swore in his frustration. He started down the tunnel to follow her but Jamie grabbed his jacket.

“It’s no use, Mouse!” Jamie said resolutely. “She’s just too frightened. We MUST tell Vincent. If anyone can catch her he can, and from the looks of her it had better be soon.”

Mouse sighed deeply and bit his lip, thinking for a moment. “OK, good. OK, fine....but only Vincent!”  
“Only Vincent,” Jamie agreed with a nod.

________________________________

 

“Catherine,” Virginia Dorenson said weakly from her hospital bed, “why do you bother with me now? I was anything but friendly to you in school; to anyone for that matter. It would serve me right if no one comes to see me out of this world.”

“Virginia,” Catherine said soothingly as she straightened the young woman’s covers on her bed, “let’s not thing about the past. It doesn’t matter now. I’ve matured and so have you since then and I’ve learned what the presence of a friend can mean to someone in times like this. I’m here now and I will be for as long as you need me.”

The woman was so frail and looked much older than she should. She was not anything like the beautiful 17 year old smiling out from her year book picture. Catherine had spent the last few hours talking with Virginia, getting to know her as a real person and not someone to be passed by in the hallway without even a thought.

A nurse entered the room with some medication. “Visiting hours are over Ms. Dorenson. Time for your nap now.”

“Oh please,” Virginia pleaded, “can’t Catherine stay a little longer?”

“Rest now Ginny,” Catherine said, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Virginia’s voice was so child-like.

Catherine took her hand and smiled. “Promise,” she repeated.

“You know, Cathy,” Virginia said tearfully, “my own father won’t even come to see me.”

Catherine had to swallow hard to keep back her own tears. “Shh, sleep now. I’ll see you soon.”

___________________________

Vincent, Jamie, and Mouse returned to the cavern where Mouse had left his offering to find the things still in place.

“No use,” Mouse said, stomping around the cavern, “won’t come back...too scared.” He picked up a boot, then threw it down in resigned defeat.

“No, wait,” Vincent said thoughtfully. “It has been some time since you were last here. She returned once before when she thought all was clear. I believe she will return again. Jamie, hand me your canteen of water.” He took it, opened its top and placed it on the rocky shelf.

“But Vincent,” Jamie clearly did not understand the reason for this. “We are so close to the new spring.”

“Yes Jamie,” Vincent agreed, “but not near enough. My guess is the child stays in the general vicinity and does not know of the spring. If she is near by and has been without water for any length of time, she will be drawn to your canteen.”

Mouse took a piece of hard, wrapped candy and placed it next to the water, then grinned up at Vincent.

“Just in case,” Mouse said. “Father says you catch more flies with honey.”

Vincent inclined his head in acknowledgment of Mouse’s reasoning. It couldn’t hurt. He motioned for total silence as they all went to hide. Mouse and Jamie took their previous hiding place, while Vincent went through the entrance which the girl always used. Surveying the cavern walls, he found a small protrusion of rock above the entrance that was adequate enough to hold him and shadowed enough that eh would be undetected.

So the waiting began again, and as before it was indeterminately long. Still they waited, listening for the uneven footsteps that were now quite familiar to Mouse.

From all the Mouse and Jamie had told Vincent of the youngster, he felt the need to find her soon. If she did not show herself before long, he knew he would have to follow the tunnel she traveled in hopes of overtaking her. If infection set into her wounds....Vincent shook the thought from his mind.

Jamie was becoming restless. Vincent could hear her movements, though he doubted the child would hear it. His sense of hearing was highly attuned, so much so that in the distance he could hear the faint sound of halting, uneven steps He leaned from his hiding place momentarily to motion to Mouse and Jamie.

“Shh, she comes!” Mouse urgently whispered to Jamie, then held his breath as before.

The girl’s approach was slower, more wary than before. Her head moved in jerky motions, tilted to one side, straining to hear any sound out of the ordinary. Slowly she crept up the tunnel, until she was even with Vincent’s hiding place, where she stopped.

For one eternally long moment, all was still. No one dared breathe, no one dared move for fear the child would detect the sounds and run off again. Eventually though, the girl felt it safe enough to move toward the shelf. She went direction to the canteen; hesitantly picking it up; shaking it to check if it contained anything. She placed it to her mouth, took a few tentative sips, then gulped greedily. She shook her head every now and then to move the hair out of the way. She drank as though she feared it would be taken from her before she could consume it all.

Suddenly her vision fell on the candy offering. With the same rapid grabbing movement that she had previously used to snatch up the apple, she took the piece of candy. Just as she had unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, Vincent jumped into the entranceway of the tunnel, blocking the normal path of her retreat. Though she made no sound, Vincent sensed her terror. She threw the canteen at Vincent, which he deftly swatted away. Turning toward the only other exit, she found her way blocked by Mouse and Jamie.

“Don’t be scared,” Jamie pleaded.

“We won’t hurt you,” Mouse added.

The child’s breath came in great spasms as her fear grew within her. She looked apprehensively from Mouse, to Jamie, to Vincent and back again. Then, when Vincent took a step toward her and her fear was at its peak, the girl reacted in the only way she knew; she dropped to the floor, curled up fetally with her arms covering her head as though she were expecting to be beaten. She was greatly surprised, however. Instead of feeling pain, she felt a very soft touch on her back.

“Do not be frightened,” an extremely gentle voice said at her side, “We will not harm you.”

The child felt her arms being moved and a hand lifting her chin, causing her to look directly into the face of a man who looked to her like a lion...but still a man.

“It’s all right,” he continued soothingly, “I want to be your friend.”

Though the girl couldn’t understand why, she felt a strange calmness come over her as the gentle lion man brushed her hair away from her face. She tried to lower her head, but his fingers held her facing him. The reaction she was prepared for didn’t come. At this point, when her face was revealed, most people would turn away in horror, for the left side of her face was badly misshapen. Where there should have been a cheekbone, there was none, causing a terrible sagging of the skin. Where her left eye should have been, there was merely smoothness, with no sign of eyelids ever having formed. The child knew she was ugly. She had been told she was ugly ever since she could remember, so she was prepared to hear it from this lion man. But he said nothing, nor did her recoil in horror at her appearance as others had. He merely offered her his hand.

“Come,” he said softly, “let us take you to a place where you will be warm and safe; and we’ll dress your wounds.”

The child took hold of Vincent’s proffered hand and stood slowly, still staring at him. Jamie and Mouse came closer, causing the girl to take refuge behind Vincent.

“Please do not be afraid,” Vincent admonished as he gently pulled her in front of him. “They too want to be friends with you. This is Mouse,” he indicated by pointing to the tall blond young man.

“Found you first!” Mouse grinned from ear to ear, “Brought you food...clothes.”

The young girl merely stared at him, expressionless, hiding her deformed side behind Vincent. The Jamie stepped forward.

“My name is Jamie,” she said. “Please, trust us. We only want to help you.”

The child felt confused. Never before had anyone been so kind to her. She looked at Jamie, then at Vincent, still a bit hesitant.

Vincent smiled at her, “My name is Vincent,” he said with a slight incline of his head. “Have you a name?”

The girl only looked at the ground, shifting her weight restlessly from one leg to the other. Vincent sensed her turmoil.

“You may tell us later if you wish,” he soothed. “Come, let us get you to our chambers. Father will tend your wounds and you may fill your stomach with some real food.”

The child was surprised, but did not resist when Vincent lifted her into his arms.

_________________________

“Vincent, Mary says the bath is ready,” Jamie announced, coming into Father’s main chamber. “Do you think she will go with me?”

At the sound of the question, the child tried once again to hide behind Vincent, shaking her head in vigorous opposition. Vincent saw the fear rise in her that he had hoped they had managed to quell.

He caressed her face gently and put his arm around her. “You know Jamie, and Mary is a wonderful, gentle woman. She would never harm anyone. You must have a bath before Father can doctor your foot.” The child’s gaze darted to Father, who tried to smile reassuringly, then back to Vincent. “It is the only way to get all the dirt from deep within the wounds.” Vincent continued. “You don’t want them to become infected, do you?” Vincent got no response from her. “Go with Jamie now. You will not be harmed.”

The youngster hesitated a moment, to one hand, made an X over her heart, then held up the hand, looking questioningly at Vincent.

Vincent grinned. “Cross my heart.” he said sincerely, repeating her motions. He patted her hand. “Now off with you.”

She hesitated only a moment more, then went out with Jamie. Father and Vincent stared after them.

“How my heart goes out to that child, Vincent.” Father said with much emotion in his voice. “One can only guess her deformity to be a birth defect, but why in heaven’s name would anyone make her wear that wooden peg? Why even before I came down here the medical world was using more natural looking prosthetics!”

“It is difficult to understand,” Vincent said absently. His gaze had become distant, as if in deep thought.

“What is it Vincent?” Father asked placing his hand upon his son’s shoulder, “Something is bother you.”

“The girl, Father.” Vincent answered with a sigh. “I’m afraid it will take a lot of love, patience and understanding to get her to open up to us.”

“That, my son, is what you do best.” Father said proudly, kissing Vincent’s forehead.

Vincent smile. “Thank you, Father, but I am not sure that what I have to give is enough. It will be quite awhile before she trusts anyone else. All of us will have to muster more patience and tenderness than we ever have before. You see, father, from the marks I saw on her back as she crouched in fear from me, I know she has been mistreated.”

“Mistreated!” Mary spat angrily as she entered the chamber. “Criminally abused is more like it!”

“What do you mean, Mary” Father asked.

“The marks on that child!” She swallowed hard as tears threatened to come to her eyes. “There are burns and scars all over her back. Bruises and marks made by God-knows-what. Scars on top of scars. I believe in disciplining a child but that...” Mary’s voice broke and she was forced to turn away, closing her eyes tightly as if trying to block out the memory of the sight she had just seen. She felt Vincent’s arm around her shoulders.

“I was afraid of that,” Vincent sighed, “just from the little I saw of her back and the level of fear I feel in her. It is not normal fear. It is genuine terror.”

“I think then,” father said authoritatively, “it is not necessary to hold a meeting to decide her fate. She will remain here as a member of our community. Mary, where is she now?”

Mary regained her composure. “Getting some clean cloths on,” she answered. “I thought we would have difficulty getting her into the bath but once she tested the water with her fingers, she climbed right in. Though she never smiles, I am sure she was enjoying the bath. And scrub! Why, that child nearly scraped a full layer of skin off, she scrubbed so hard.”

“Well, at least we know she values cleanliness,” father said, and they all chuckled.

__________________________________  
In Jamie’s chambers, the child was finally getting the last vestiges of mat and tangle out of her hair. She even allowed Jamie to help her, though why she should trust these people on Vincent’s say so she did not know or understand. She was unused to people being nice to her. All her life she could only remember oppression. She never knew kindness from anyone until Vincent came along. Somehow she knew he would enver hurt her. She knew she could trust him, and if he said that these people were kind and would not harm her, then it must be so.

“There,” Jamie said, laying down the comb, “I think that’s all of them. Your hair is a good bit longer than I thought it was.” Jamie pulled the girl’s hair back but the child lowered her head, pulling some of her hair forward to conceal the deformed part of her face. Jamie sighed. “Let’s go back to Vincent.”

The girl was up in a instant at the sound of Vincent’s name. Though she believed him that no one would harm her, she still felt safer in his company. As the entered the chambers where the others were, all conversations topped. Everyone was looking at the child.

“Well then,” Father said, advancing toward them, “let’s have a look at you.” He reached to brush her hair back from the child’s face.

 

The girl flinched, putting her hands in front of her face for protection as she began to visiply tremble. Vincent was immediately by her side.

“Father means you no harm, “ Vincent said soothingly to her. “He will never strike you.”

“I have been known to growl a little,” Father said lightly, “but I never, never strike.” He then slowly brushed back her hair.

The youngster lowered her head and pulled her hair back over her face once again. Vincent turned her toward him.

“That is not necessary,” he said, kneeling in front of her. “Look at me.” Vincent gently lifter her chin to make her look at his face. “I don’t look like anyone else here. You may even say I am deformed; but down here, that does not matter.”

“Yes child,” Father said, softly placing a hand to the deformed side of her face, “how a person looks means nothing to us. We look in here.” He tapped her heart. “That is all that matters to us. Do you understand?”

The girl lifted her head on her own this time and looked at each of them, then back to Vincent. She nodded.

Vincent smiled as he patted her on top of the head. They had crossed a major stepping stone.

“Now come,” he said, “let’s have Father take a look at your foot.”

_______________________________

“She has been with us three weeks,” Vincent was telling Catherine as the walked through the caverns to the lower chambers, “still she has not uttered a single word.”

“Is she mute?” Catherine asked with genuine interest. In all the time she had known Vincent she had come also to know and love all of his underground family. She could sense that this newest addition was very special to Vincent.

“No, I am sure she isn’t,” he replied with a puzzled look on his face. “I have heard her make noises when she is frightened. I have even heard her cry out in her sleep from a bad dream. Father put her in the small unused chamber just off mine. She seems so fearful unless I am nearby.”

Catherine smiled. She understood the child’s feeling of security with Vincent. They walked along in companionable silence for awhile.

Vincent was first to speak. “How is your friend in the hospital?”

“Oh Vincent,” Catherine sighed, “she degenerates each day I see her. I remember her as such a beautiful girl; now she is only a shell of what she once was. She’s so lonely. Even her own father hasn’t been in to see her.”

“How people in your world can be so cold, Catherine,” Vincent said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Not everyone, Vincent, you know that,” Catherine said.

“Yes, Catherine,” he replied. “I do know that. It is just that in the last couple of weeks, seeing the evidence of abuse that child has been put through, hearing her cry out; feeling her fear and then listening to you tell about a young woman dying alone...” He shook his head again. They walked once more in silence, each in their own thoughts.

“Vincent,” Catherine said finally, breaking the silence, “I think I may be able to find out who this child is.”

Vincent stopped and cocked his head questioningly at her.

“I’m following a lead now,” she explained. “If I am right...well, Vincent, you may have to let me take the child back up top.”

“No Catherine,” Vincent said adamantly, “I cannot do that. She has obviously been through extreme abuse...”

“I know, Vincent; but if she belongs to the people I think she does, they are in a position to help correct her deformity.” Catherine tried to reason.

“We will not send her back to more abuse!” Vincent said forcefully.

“I don’t think the people she belongs to are the ones who did that to her.” Catherine couldn’t explain everything just yet. She wasn’t even sure her theory was correct.

“No Catherine.” Vincent would not be swayed.

Catherine would argue no more with him. She could feel through their bond his strong conviction on the matter.

“Catherine, I understand the difficulty you are having with this situation,” Vincent said. He stopped, turning Catherine to face him. “You feel the need to do what in your world is the proper thing, return the child to her rightful family. At the same time...”

“At the same time I know I can not. I will not betray our bond by going against your decision.” Catherine concluded for him.

Vincent held Catherine close to him. “Please believe me when I say she is better off down here with us.”

Catherine could not answer. She still felt the need to find out if her theory on the child’s origins was correct. She was thankful when she and Vincent met Father in the tunnel, for an uneasy silence had come between them.

“Ah, Vincent, Catherine,” Father greeted them. “Have either of you seen Mouse? We were suppose to go over his plans for the water wheel.”

“No, Father,” Vincent answered. “I haven’t seen him since this morning at breakfast. A water wheel?” Vincent looked both curious and amused.

“Yes,” Father chuckled as they entered Father’s library. The child who was sitting at the table looked up, started by their laughter.

“What are you doing, child?” Father asked on noting the pencil in the youngster’s hand and the papers in front of her. He wrinkled his brow. “I do hope you aren’t writing on anything important.” Though Father’s voice was not unkind the child became fearful. She knew that she didn’t have permission to use the pencil and paper but she had hoped to finish and hide the papers before Father returned.

It had taken the child a little longer than she expected to accomplish what she wanted, resulting in her discovery by the others. Now she feared the worst. Vincent, Father and Catherine crossed the chamber to the table. The child searched for an unblocked exit, her breath came rapidly, her mind swirling with fear and indecision. She saw Vincent reach for the papers in front of her. In her confused state of mind she felt a great fear over the idea of his seeing what she had done. Quickly she snatched the papers away, just as his hand was about to touch them. 

Crumpling the papers to her, the child stood so rapidly that the chair in which she had been sitting crashed noisily to the floor.

“I only want to see the papers, child,” Vincent said, trying to sound as unmeanacing as possible. He could smell her fear. “I will not hurt you.”

The girl seemed not to hear. Her whole body began to tremble. She turned, wanting desperately to escape. She had only been able to take one step, however, for her cumbersome wooden peg became entangled in the chair legs, causing her to topple forward. Her head struck the edge of the table with a resounding thud. It caused her head to spin more rapidly. Her vision blurred.

Looking up toward Vincent, she saw him closing in rapidly on her. She feared she was in for the worst beating ever. There was but one thing left for her to do. As she hit the cavern floor, she drew herself up into as small a ball as possible, prepared to weather what was about to come her way. As she threw her arms over her head, still clutching the crumpled papers she felt a hand touch her back. Her fear turned to palsy; all went black.

____________________________  
“She should be all right, Vincent,: Father said reassuringly, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder as Vincent sat next to the child’s bed. “I do not feel the blow she sustained was severe enough to cause unconsciousness, in spite of the rising lump on her head.” Father brushed the child’s hair away from her forehead to expose the bruise. “I believe she blacked out from fear.”

“You mean she blacked out because she was afraid we would hurt her?” Catherine asked, sitting next to Vincent who held the child’s hand.

“Yes, exactly,” Father replied. “Oh, how I sorely would like to get my hands on whoever did this to that child.”

“As would I,” Vincent said. There was that in his tone of voice which bore an ominous fate for the perpetrators.

“Come, Vincent,” Father said, “rest is the best thing for her.”

Reluctantly, Vincent placed the child’s hand on the bed and followed Father and Catherine out of the chamber. Catherine picked up the papers the child had guarded so fiercely from the floor where they had fallen when Vincent carried the youngster to her bed. As she slowly tried to smooth them out, Vincent heard he quick intake of breath.

“What is it, Catherine?” he questioned.

Catherine handed him one of the papers. At first Vincent looked puzzled, then that expression changed as a slow smile of wonder crossed his face.

“Father, look at this,” Vincent said as Father came up beside him. Father too smiled, as they looked at a near perfect pencil sketch of Vincent.

“Look at this one,” Catherine said, joining them with two more drawings in her hands. “These are beautiful!” father and Vincent smiled, shaking their heads in amazement. “Vincent,” Catherine continued, “the child has captured you exquisitely!”

Vincent nodded his agreement. Inwardly he felt a great pride that the child had chosen him as the subject of her artwork. “She must be a natural,” he said, “for no one could ever teach such talent as this.”

Catherine reached down in front of them to pick up one more piece of paper from the floor. As she unraveled it and saw is contents, a lump rose to her throat. Tears threatened the corners of her eyes. Vincent, puzzled by her reaction, took the paper from her.

“Vincent,” Father said raspily as he looked at the drawing with his son, “I can feel the love just flowing from this sketch.” He too had become misty-eyed, for the pencil drawing which they looked at depicted Vincent, lovingly cradling the child in his arms as she sad curled on his lap, burying her head in his chest.

“Yes, Father,” Vincent agreed, “I too can fell it , but look at how she has drawn herself,” he pointed to the child’s self portrait. “She does not show her face, but covers it with her hair; and look, two normal feet rather than one and the peg. I definitely feel her love, but I can also feel her ashamedness of herself. I do not understand why I am able to feel this child’s emotions so strongly. They come to me almost as strongly as yours do through our connection, Catherine.”

Catherine smiled and looked a Father who exchanged knowing glances with her. “I understand, Vincent,” she said, “and so does Father.”

Vincent looked at Father questioningly.

“Vincent,” Father chuckled, then cleared his throat, “Vincent, I believe you are feeling very much toward this child the way I feel for you.”

Vincent tilted his head and blinked his eyes, looking first at Father, then at Catherine who was smiling and slowly nodding her head. A slow look of chagrin crossed his face. He knew he could not deny his growing parental feelings for the child.

“Yes Vincent,” Father said, “though all of the children are very special to you, there is always one who will capture your heart just a little more than the rest. Take it from me, I speak from experience.” Father patted Vincent’s back and they all laughed.

Catherine suddenly looked at her watch. “Oh my, I’m afraid I must be going,” she said. “I’m due in court first thing in the morning and I must get some sleep. If you prefer not to leave her, Vincent, I’m sure Ellie or one of the other children...”

“I will guide you out, Catherine,” Vincent said, putting a slight emphasis on the word ‘I’. He grinned. “The child is merely asleep, not in danger of her life.” He then picked up his cape, took Catherine by the hand, and led her to her apartment basement.

___________________________

“Catherine,” a very weak Virginia Dorenson said from her hospital bed, “I don’t have much longer. I can feel it. Have you spoken to my father?”

Catherine finished straightening the covers of Virginia’s bed before speaking, “Yes, Ginny, and I’m afraid he still hasn’t changed his mind. He won’t come. I’m sorry...”

“It’s OK Cathy,” Ginny said, I didn’t really expect him to come. Ever since I had the baby, I’ve never been one of his favorite people. He’s so afraid that I will tell someone about her. I just wish I knew for sure what happened to her. My father said that he had her taken care of but...oh Cathy...I know I was wrong to allow myself to have a baby out of wedlock, and I know that the child paid for my drug abuse with her deformity, but I still would just like to know, before I die, that she is OK. I would like to think she has a decent life.”

“Ginny,” Catherine began hesitantly, “I’ve got something to tell you that you may find hard to believe, but I swear to you it is all true.”

__________________________

“You mean Catherine’s dying friend is the mother of our newest addition?” Father asked incredulously.

“Yes Father, I’m afraid it is true.” Vincent said with a sigh, “but that is not the whole story. Virginia Dorenson experimented with many different mind-altering drugs as a teenager which evidently was the cause of her illegitimate child’s birth defects. This child, however, was such an embarrassment to Ms. Dorenson’s family that her father ordered all who knew of it to swear to secrecy. The child was born at the Dorenson estate with no aid of a doctor, so the only people who knew of her were those who worked for Virginia’s father and the few family members present at the time. No record of the child’s birth was ever made. Mr. Dorenson had the child taken to some secluded place and hired a woman to care for her under the provision that all the money needed to properly care for both the child and the woman would be supplied if the woman promised to never allow the child to be seen or heard of by anyone. One can only guess what happened since that day and why the child was abused so.”

“Are you certain it is our child?” Father asked hopefully, praying inwardly that Vincent could be wrong.

Vincent lowered his head. “It is she,” he said disconsolately. “Catherine said that Virginia described the child’s deformities down to the last detail.” Vincent sat silently toying with a chess piece at the table.

“Vincent,” Father probed, “what are you not telling me?”

“Catherine feels the child’s grandfather has enough money to correct her deformities. She is going to speak with him this morning about it.” Vincent said without looking at his Father.

“And she wants you to let her take the child back up top.” Father finished what Vincent could not bring himself to say.  
Vincent did not need to answer. Father knew what was in his son’s heart. He had always feared the time when Vincent and Catherine would have a huge difference of opinion, and it seemed that time was her now. He sought to change the subject.

“Where is the child now?” He asked.

“Jamie took her and the other children up top to the Chinese New Year celebration,” Vincent replied. ‘I wasn’t too sure I should send her but when Jamie asked the child if she would like to go, she gave evidence of the first signs of enthusiasm since she arrived here. It is quite dark tonight and she is wearing a hooded cape which Mary made for her. Jamie promised to keep the child close. I must admit, though, I am a little apprehensive about the situation but I hate to deny her the freedom the other children have. She has just recently started playing with them.”

“Yes, I know,” Father said. “In the two months she has been with us, she still only trusts you, Jamie and Mouse. She will only play with the other children if one of you are around.”

“I only wish she trusted me enough to speak to me, “ Vincent said wistfully, “I know she is capable of speech. I have heard her often enough when she has nightmares.”

Father nodded in agreement. “I have lost count of the times you have held and comforted her when she awoke screaming. But do not despair, Vincent. I feel the time is near when she will open up to you.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden rush of children running into the chamber, breathless.

“Vincent,” Kipper said, trying desperately to catch his breath, “Trouble!” He huffed and puffed so that he found it difficult to speak.

“The girl!” Eric exclaimed when he saw that Kipper could no longer continue, “She’s gone!”

Vincent was immediately on his feet. “What?” he roared. “How?”

“Jamie went to talk to Mr. Chang,” Ellie explained, “The girl was standing right next to her. Next thing we know, a man was shoving her into a big van.”

“Where is Jamie?” Father asked noting the young woman’s absence.

“She jumped on the back step of the truck,” Kipper said as he regained his breath. “She told us to get you...said she would send a message on the pipes when she finds out where they are taking her.”

Vincent threw the chess piece across the table in anger. “I knew I should not have allowed the child to go,” he growled. “Now not only is she in grave danger, but Jamie as well. If it is the people who abused the child there is no telling what they will do.”

“We can only hope,” father said, “that Jamie does not try any foolish rescue attempt on her own. It would be so like her. She is a very headstrong young lady.”

Vincent seemed not to hear. He was pacing the chamber like a caged animal, a fierce and terrible expression on his face. The children exchanged worried glances.

“We’re sorry, Vincent,” Ellie said apologetically. “We should have kept a closer watch on her.” 

Vincent’s pacing stopped immediately as though someone had turned a switch. The fierce expression was replaced just as quickly with a very gentle, understanding one.

“It isn’t your fault, Ellie,” Vincent said in a soft, gentle voice as he took Ellie’s hands in his. He looked at the other children. “It isn’t anyone’s fault. I am sorry if you felt I was blaming you. If anyone is to blame, it is me. I guess all we can do now is wait for Jamie’s signal.”

_____________________________

The ride on the step van’s bumper was a rough one for Jamie and an incredibly long one. Many times she nearly lost her grip on the back door hinges. She was certain that they had been driving for nearly an hour. They had long since left the main section of New York City.

Jamie peeked around the side of the van. Seeing the headlights on a road sign, her heart sank. They were a good 20 miles outside of the city. How was she ever going to get a message to Vincent in time to keep the child from any further abuse? Already she had heard the people yelling at the child and striking her. Jamie cursed under her breath at her inabililty to give succor to the child.

The truck turned into a driveway; its engine and lights were cut off. Jamie quickly rolled into the bushes alongside the driveway before anyone opened the van’s doors. The woman, getting out of the van, roughly pulled the child out after her.

“You’re mighty lucky you spotted the brat’s peg in that crowd, “ the woman chided to the man who followed demurely behind her. “This time when I tell you to be sure everything is locked up, do it right, fool! We can’t afford to lose her again.”

“I thought the garage door was locked,” the large slow man answered sullenly. “Anyway, I found her, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you found her,” the woman’s nasal voice was mocking. “But how long was she gone, you idiot? You forgot about that, didn’t’ you? No telling how many people she blabbed to.” With that remark the woman viciously pulled the child’s hair. “How ‘bout it kid? Didya blab to anybody? Well? Answer me!” With each question the woman dragged the child a little farther by her hair.

“The child was weeping uncontrollably. How she wished to be back underground with Vincent, safe and without pain! She opened her mouth as if to try to answer.

 

“Answer me, stupid!” The woman’s screaming voice rang hauntingly in Jamie’s ears as the woman literally threw the child through the front door of the house, using the child’s head as an aid to open the already ajar door.Any reply the child may have made was cut off from Jamie by the slamming of the door behind them. The only thing Jamie coudl hear was the terrible blows the child was receiving from the beating the woman was rendering on her. Jamie could see the rising and falling of the woman’s hand and some instrument of torment as shadows on the window sash. She could hear the screams and sobs of the child and could bear it no longer. Jamie burst through the front door and grabbed the woman’s arm.

“STOP IT!” Jamie yelled, angrily pulling the woman away from the child. “Leave her alone!”

Jamie’s whole attention was on the woman and the child which, unfortunately, proved to be her undoing. She had momentarily forgotten about the man. The last thing Jamie heard before losing consciousness was the child’s voice.

“N-No! P-Please,” the child pleaded. “don’t hurt J-Jamie.”

At that same moment the man grabbed the brass candle holder off the mantel behind him and brought it brutally down across Jamie’s head.

_________________________

Father had ordered all communication to cease until Jamie’s message came through. About an hour into their wait something did come across on the pipes, but it was not what they were waiting for. It was Catherine. Father sent one of the children to lead her down. For the first time, Vincent seemed irritated by her signal.

“What is it?” Catherine asked in a worried tone as she entered Father’s main chamber. “Vincent, I suddenly felt a terrible foreboding come over me. I knew something was wrong with you.” Catherine surveyed the chamber. “Vincent,” her voice began to tremble, “where is the child?”

Vincent felt Catherine’s true concern through their bond. Knowing how genuine it was calmed him somewhat.

“She went up top with Jamie and the other children to observe the Chinese New Year celebration.” he explained, “and was abducted.” 

“Oh, Vincent, no!” Catherine said, holding him to her. She felt all the pain of separation that Vincent was feeling and was moved to tears.

“Jamie hopped on the back of the truck,” Kipper took up the explanation asit seemed Vincent could not continues. “She’s suppose to send us a signal on the pipes so we can tell where they took her.”

“How long ago?” Catherine asked, sniffing back her tears.

“It has been a good hour,” Father said. The note of despair in his voice was undeniable. He did not need to voice his fears; they were the same as Vincent’s which Catherine knew only too well.

“Wait a minuet.” Catherine recalled something. “Kipper, you said a truck took her. Do you remember anything about the truck?”

“Well,” Kipper thought for a moment, exchanging glances with the other children, “it was big, a van-type truck, with a wide step on the back. That’s where Jamie hitched a ride.”

“A step van,” Catherine said to no one in particular. You could almost see her mid working, “Can any of you remember anything else about it? Anything at all?”

“It has some writing one the side,” Ellie added, then closed her eyes trying to remember. “I think it was Last....Last chance Concessions.” 

“Good! Good!” Catherine praised as she wrote in her small palm-sized notebook.

“Catherine,” Eric said tugging at her sleeve, “will this help?” Eric handed her a piece of paper. “I like numbers. It’s sort of a game I play to see how many I can remember,” he said almost apologetically. “I remembered this on the truck.”

“The license plate number!” Catherine was awed. “Yes, Eric, thank you; it will help very much.”

“What are you planning to do?” Vincent asked Catherine. He had felt her hope.

“Evie taught me how to run a check on a license plate number through the computer,” she explained. “I can go to the D.A.’s office, I’ve got the key. It’s worth at try Vincent!”

“Yes,” Vincent agreed, now hopeful himself. “Ellie, lead Catherine out quickly and I will stay here in case Jamie’s signal comes.” For the first time since her disappearance, Vincent felt closer to regaining the child.

_______________________________

The child lay weeping on the cold damp cement floor of the dark basement. The beating she had received after Jamie had tried to help her had been more severe than any she had ever received at the hands of her cruel jailers. The woman had yanked her up off the floor by her right arm so roughly that the youngster heard a loud cracking noise and felt immense pain around the shoulder. Now the arm hung limply, useless. It was not her own pain, however, that caused her the most concern. It was Jamie.

The blow that the man had rendered Jamie with the brass candle holder sounded as though it had cracked her skull. Blood gushed down the side of her face. This terrified the child. She was certain that if this blow to the head had not killed Jamie, then surely the way in which she had been thrown down the cellar steps had. She could not tell for sure whether Jamie was alive or dead, for Jamie was bound by the wrists to the bottom of the steps, while she herself was tied to the metal pole in the middle of the floor. The only light in the basement was supplied by a gas light near the driveway as it shone through the small window across the room. By what little light there was on Jamie, the child could see she was very still.

The woman was furious when Jamie tried to stop her from hitting the child, and even more furious when the child called Jamie by name. The woman went into a frenzy, accusing the child of telling Jamie everything. Though the youngster assured the woman that she had spoken to no one, the woman did not believe her, thus taking out her anger in every way she could on the child.

Now the girl could hear the woman and the man discussing Jamie. They could have no one knowing where they kept the child. The child seemed to realize what this meant for Jamie and she knew she could not let this happen.

___________________________________  
Vincent’s pacing had increased once again. two more hours had passed and still no word from either Jamie or Catherine. The silence was unbearable. Vincent was frustrated by his inabililty to locate the two girls.

The children were more silent than they had ever been. They too had grown fond of the girl and even tried incorporating her into their games. Though she wouldn’t participate, she would watch them intently.

Father watched his son’s agitation grow with each crossing of the room. “Vincent, please,” Father begged, “sit down. Your pacing only makes your anger grow. I’m sure we will hear from one of them soon.”

Vincent whirled toward his Father, an angry expression on his face. Just as he was about to reply, however, the anger left his face. He tilted his head as if listening to something. Suddenly, Vincent grabbed his cape and ran out the chamber entrance, nearly knocking Pascal over as the man entered hurriedly.

“Vincent!” Pascal said breathlessly, “New Rochelle! It’s very faint but we were able to trace it. A single message, ‘Vincent help’...it’s them, I know it is. They’re in New Rochelle.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Vincent was gone. A few minutes later, Catherine signaled. Ellie went to meet her.

________________________________

The child was startled by a sudden noise in the dark basement. She hoped with all her might that it was not one of the rats that lived there. The rats frightened her most of all. The woman had told her once that if she ever fell asleep in the basement, the rats wold eat her. once, when she had dozed off, she awoke to find a rat gnawing on her wooden peg. Often, when she had nightmares, it was about the rats.

Without any warning, the lights were turned on in the basement, momentarily blinding the child. When she regained her sight, she saw the woman standing over Jamie while the man was hovering over her. The woman had a gun aimed at Jamie’s head.

“P-Please, she won’t t-tell,” the child pleaded desperately, “Sh-She lives in a s-secret p-place. Sh-She won’t tell...”

“Shut the brat up!” the woman screamed at the man.

The girl saw the man raise his clenched fist to strike her. She tried to cover her face with her good arm, forgetting momentarily that she was tied. 

“N-No more, p-please,” she begged. She watched his shadow on the floor so she could brace herself for the blow she knew would come.

Just as she was about to tighten her muscles, she saw another, larger shadow loom up behind the man. The man must have sense the presence of another, for he turned. The expression on his face went from one of sadistic pleasure to one of sheer terror. All color left his face as he looked into the face of the most frightening being he had ever seen. It let out a blood-curdling roar.

The child looked up, bewildered. So much was happening at once. She saw Vincent, snarling and roaring in anger. He raked his terrible claws across the man’s chest, first to the right, then to the left. The man trembled with palsy as he backed into the wall. Vincent reached for the man’s throat.

At the same time, a noise over by Jamie caught the child’s attention. She turned to find Catherine charging down the basement steps to confront the woman. It did not take Catherine long to remove the gun from the woman’s grasp. They struggled with each other for a few seconds then Catherine raised the butt of the pistol over the woman’s head and brought it down on top of her with a consciousness-ridding rap.

Just as the gun butt came into contact with the woman’s head, the child heard a loud snap come from where Vincent held the man up off the floor by his throat. He hung limply in Vincent’s grasp only a moment, then was slung to the side like a piece of rubbish. Vincent shook himself once as though to shake off the last vestiges of his anger. he rushed to the child’s side.

Catherine let out a sigh of relief as she checked Jamie over. “She is unconscious, but alive,” she called to Vincent.

Vincent cupped the child’s face in the palms of his hands and kissed her forehead gently. The child had great streams of tears flowing down her cheek. She could scarcely believe that this was not a dream. The Vincent encircled her in his mighty arms and as she felt his love flood her, she knew it was actually happening. She sobbed uncontrollably, though more out of relief and joy at being in Vincent’s presence again.  
Vincent too had felt tears of joy come to his eyes. He secretly vowed to never let anything like this happen to his new-found daughter again. As he held her, he could see the newest marks on her and noted how she had no use of her arm.

“You are injured,” he said to the child. Then he turned to Catherine. “Come, we must get them back to Father. The way I came will be rough and difficult for them.”

“Let me take you in my car,” Catherine implored. “It is still dark. No one will see you and it will not be as hard on them.”

_________________________

Father knew of their return before they reached his chambers. The sentries had sped the message across the pipes. He and Mary began setting up his medical equipment, preparing for the worst. 

 

Father’s heart sank when he saw the unconscious, limp Jamie in Vincent’s arms. He saw the child clinging silently to Vincent’s sleeve, her arm hanging useless by her side. The new bruises very visible on her face and arms.

Vincent placed Jamie on the table which Father used for his hospital, took the child by the hand and led her into the other chamber to rejoin Catherine and the others. All of the inhabitants of the underground world waited in silence for news of Jamie’s condition.

Vincent sat in a chair, unconsciously stroking the child’s hair as she sat on the floor, clinging to his knee. Catherine paced silently behind them. Time dragged along at a snail’s pace. It seemed forever before Father emerged from behind the screen but emerge he did. All stood, looking questioningly at him.

“She has a concussion,” Father sighed, “but no other serious injuries. She will need to be watched for a while. She will be as good as new in a few days, though a little sore from her bruises. She has regained consciousness, but remember nothing. He looked at Mouse, who was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yes, Mouse, you may see her. In fact, you can help keep watch on her.”

“OK good! OK Fine!" Mouse was smiling from ear to ear. He nearly tripped in his haste to reach Jamie.

“If only you could speak, child.” father said as he crossed the room to her.

“She can, Father,” Vincent said. Sitting back down in the chair, Vincent placed the child upon his lap. With a single finger crooked under her chin, he turned her face toward him. “I know you can speak,” he said softly to her, “I heard you back there in that basement, pleading with the woman not to hurt Jamie. I am very proud of you. You knew that such action would bring more pain to you, but still you did what you could to save Jamie’s life and it was enough, for it gave Catherine and I time to act.”

“B-But Jamie almost d-died because of me. I-It was m-my fault.” The child was unable to understand Vincent’s praise of her.

“No, child,” Vincent consoled in his most gentle voice. “It was not your fault and Jamie is alive because of you.”

“N-No!” The girl began to cry again. “I-It was my f-fault. D-Don’t you s-see?” Vincent started to contradict her but the child pushed on. “W-when they dragged m-me into the h-house, th-they were h-hitting me and sc-screaming at me. Th-They wanted to kn-know how much I-I told J-Jamie. They s-saw me with h-her at the N-New Year celebration. J-Jamie tried to m-make the woman stop b-beating me. I-If I didn’t st-stutter so m-much, I could have w-warned Jamie in T-time. Th-The man hit her s-so hard with the c-candle holder. W-When they put us i-in the c-cellar, th-they threw Jamie d-down the steps. Sh-She was s-so still, her head w-was bleeding so m-much.” The girl closed her only eye as if to block out the sight. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Head wounds always appear as though the person is losing a lot of blood,” father tried to reassure her, “and her being unconscious made her body limp, which actually prevented her from being seriously injured when they threw her down the steps. But I must know, child, Jamie did regain consciousness at some time while you were in the basement, didn’t she?”

The child shook her head no.

“Then who sent the message over the pipes?” Vincent asked.

“She did!” exclaimed Pascal. He looked at the child. “You remembered didn’t you?” The child nodded affirmatively. Vincent looked questioningly from the child to Pascal. Pascal was grinning widely. “She was in the pipe chamber,” he began to explain, “watching me very intently one day so I tried to explain to her how to tap out a few things. The first was your name, Vincent, then, I don’t know why, but something told me the second thing should be HELP. I wasn’t even sure she understood me, but you did, didn’t you, child. You sent the message.”

“I-I was t-tied to the drain p-pipe. I-I found a p-piece of loose c-cement. I-I couldn’t let J-Jamie d-die. I-It seemed so s-soft and it had s-so far to g-go. I-I was afraid n-no one would h-hear.”

“But we did hear it, child,” Vincent soothed, “and because of your signal I was able to find you and Jamie.”

“Th-Then I did g-good?” the girl asked, still finding it hard to believe.

Father rolled his eyes upward in exasperation. “What you did was brilliant, child!” he praised.

“B-But I am s-so stupid and c-clumsy,” she countered.

“Don’t say that!” Vincent’s voice was raised in volume a bit, startling the child. Vincent instantly regretted his actions. He took the child’s hands in his. His voice again became soft and consoling. “I am sorry if I frightened you. I wold never harm you, you know that. I just do not like to hear you say your are stupid and clumsy. Whoever told you that?”

“Th-They did,” she answered in a very small childish voice, “th-the people I lived w-with. Th-they told me that be-because I st-stutter and f-fall so much.”

Vincent lowered his head, closing his eyes in disgust. “You are not stupid or clumsy,” he told her earnestly, shaking her just slightly for emphasis. “Your stuttering stems from fear....fear of reprisals which you have received far too many of, and your so-called clumsiness is because of that wooden peg you are forced to wear. It is cumbersome and awkward, but that can be remedied. Father knows of someone who can get you a more natural-looking artificial limb that will help you to balance better. Believe me, your stuttering and stumbling will one day cease. I promise you. With a lot of love and encouragement from all of us you will overcome both.”

The child was confused. She still could not fathom Vincent’s reaction to her. “I-I thought you would be a-angry and h-hate me because J-Jamie was hurt. V-Vincent,” the child said plaintively as a tear caught in the corner of her eye, “I-I couldn’t bear for you to h-hate me.”

Vincent once again closed his eyes as he hugged the child to him. He fought desperately to hold back his own tears.

Catherine was the first to speak. “Vincent could never hate you, child,” she said kneeling in front of Vincent and the child. “He loves you as much as if you were his own. You don’t hate someone you love for any reason. The people you lived with were not good people. They only wanted the money that keeping you brought them. They didn’t care about you so they were mean, even cruel to you. They lied to you, telling you that you were stupid and clumsy so that they could control you better. Eventually, they took a good deal of pleasure in seeing you hurt.” The child was listening intently. “But please, do not judge all people by those two. There are many good people around.”

“Like Vincent?” the child questioned.

Catherine smiled. “yes, like Vincent and Father and everyone else in this underground community. Trust them and listen to them. They will teach you what it means to be loved.”

All was silent for a moment. The child placed her uninjured arm around Vincent’s neck. “I-I think I am a-already learning about that,” the child gave evidence of the first signs of a smile since she had come to them.

Father cleared his throat. “Mm, well now, enough talk. It is time I had a look of that arm of yours. What happened to it?”

“Th-The woman pulled me up by m-my arm.” the child explained. “I-I heard a cr-cracking noise, r-right here.” She pointed to her shoulder. “I-it hurt so m-much. Th-Then it seemed s-so odd felling, l-like pins and n-needles.”

“Hmm,” father said absently as he began to feel around the shoulder joint. “From the way you describe it, I would say....yes, yes...here it is.” he said in triumph. “Vincent, her arm has popped out of the shoulder socket. I’m afraid you will have to put it right, my strength is not what it used to be.”

Vincent knew what to do. Before he started, he got up, placing the child in the chair. He took her chin in his hand and looked directly into her single eye.

“You know I would never purposely cause you undue pain.” he stated softly. The girl shook her head in acknowledgment. Vincent smiled and continued. “what I must do to you now is only to help you. If I could spare you the pain it will cause, I would, but I am afraid that there is no way to prevent it.”

“The pain will only be momentary,” Father assured her, “but when it is over, your arm will be as good as new.”

Vincent took the girl’s limp arm in both hands and braced his feet, one against her shoulder. “Ready?” he asked.

The youngster couldn’t answer verbally. She merely closed her eye, clenched her teeth and nodded.

Vincent took a deep breath and gave one might jerk of her arm. At the same instant, a resounding pop was heard. The girl sharply drew her breath inward. The pain was more of a stinging pain. She had expected it to be much worse. Vincent let go of her arm.

“How does it feel?” Father questioned.

The child opened her eye, lifted her arm up and down, flexing her fingers. “G-Good as new,” she replied, a touch of a grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

Everyone laughed, Vincent sat on the arm of the chair next to her, put his arm around her and hugged her to him lovingly.

“Now you can draw us some more beautiful pictures,” Catherine said lightly.

“Y-You mean y-you don’t mind i-if I use your p-paper and p-pencils?” The child was genuinely puzzled.

“Mind!” Father exclaimed, “My dear child, your sketches are exquisite. A natural artistic ability such as yours should be nurtured, not denied. Surely even those two brutes you lived with realized that.”

The child shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes, th-the woman w-would give me s-some paper and pencils b-but usually th-they would get angry i-if I used any without a-asking.”

“How did you ever learn to draw so accurately?” Catherine asked.  
“I-I don’t know,” the child once again sounded apologetic. “I-I just look at things, th-then I d=draw them. S-Sometimes I d-draw things that are j-just in my mind.”

“Like the sketches of you and Vincent?” Catherine asked.

The child lowered her head. She remembered that she did not sk their permission to draw on the paper, and how Father’s voice sounded when he thought they might be drawn on something important of his. Vincent lifted her chin, making her look at him.

“Do not be ashamed of anything you have drawn,” he consoled. “You have a very rare talent. No one here will ever ridicule you for it.”

“B-But I didn’t ask,” the child said and Vincent sensed her fear rise again, “a-and Father was u-upset with me.” 

“No child,” Vincent soothed, “Father was not angry but merely concerned that the papers were not any that he needed.”

“Even if they were,” Father added, “I would not have been angry, especially after I saw your sketches.”

“I-It’s OK if I d-draw?” the youngster questioned, still not able to accept the fact.

“Any time you feel like it, child.” Vincent assured her.

“Th-Then I can st-stay with you?” she asked Vincent hopefully.

It was not Vincent who answered her, however, it was Catherine. “Yes, child, you may stay with Vincent for as long as you like,” she said.

“Promise?” the child asked crossing her heart.

Vincent looked into Catherine’s eyes. They spoke to each other with thier souls and all was well with them. Vincent turned back to the child.

“Now that you are speaking to us,” he said, “won’t you tell us your name so we can stop calling you ‘child’?”

“I-I don’t have a n-name,” the child said simply.

“Then I will give you one,” Vincent said. he thought for a moment, then raised a finger as a light came into his eyes. “Trista! From this time forward you shall be called Trista.”

“Yes,” father said slowly, agreeing, “yes Vincent, very appropriate.”

Catherine looked at them, puzzled. 

“It is Latin in origin,” Vincent explained. “It means she has a secret sorrow that ends in happiness.”

__________________________  
At the entrance to the underground world, Vincent and Catherine stood momentarily, looking lovingly at one another, enjoying each other’s touch before she returned to her world.

“It has been quite a day,” Catherine sighed.

“Mm,” Vincent nodded his agreement. “Catherine, what changed your mind about returning Trista to the world above?”

Catherine looked distant as she recalled the memory of all that had happened since before the child disappeared. “After Ginny Dorenson described her baby and what her father had done, I went to speak with him to see if he wouldn’t do the right thing and take proper care of the child. I thought at least in respect for hsi dying daughter...” she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Oh, Vincent,” Catherine said plaintively, “not only did he deny the existence of the child, he also tole me that his own daughter had died many years ago.” 

“How anyone can be so cold,” Vincent wondered, “as to deny his own flesh and blood.” He shook his head.

“I know, Vincent,” Catherine said with a wrinkled brow, “it is hard to believe, but that is not what made me change my mind. It was you, Vincent,” He looked puzzled. She continued, “Whenever you were with Trista, I felt so much love and joy inside of you and when she was gone...such pain and emptiness.”

Vincent closed his eyes as he remembered all too well the feelings he had on learning of the child’s abduction. Catherine pressed closer to him.

“Our connection,” she explained, “showed me how wrong it would be to take her away from you. All the money in the world could never give her the love and security she has here with you.” Vincent smiled and encircled her tightly in his arms. Catherine knew why the child drew the picture of Vincent holding her. She felt so safe in his arms. Catherine continued, “Before Ginny died she expressed a deep need to know what had become of her baby girl. I told her that I found the child, though I didn’t say exactly where, and assured her the child is getting a lot of love and care from you. She wanted to know all about you.”

“And?” Vincent prodded, as Catherine paused.

“Of course I didn’t ell her everything,” Catherine chuckled, “but from what I did tell her, she felt you were exactly the type of person she used to dream would raise her child. The type of father she herself never had. Ginny died then and if you could have seen the look of complete happiness and contentment on her face, you would know that she was at peace with herself, knowing that her child was happy and in the best possible place for her...as do I.” Catherine snuggled herself against his massive chest. “I’m sorry I ever doubted it, Vincent; can you ever forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Vincent softly said. “You were simply doing what you conscience told you was the right thing for Trista. All came out well in the end. You made a friend of someone you only knew in passing and made her final days happier than she had ever known, and I...I have found what Father has known these 30-odd years; how much joy it brings to love a special child. I can find no discontent in that.”

Catherine and Vincent held each other close, reveling in each other’s touch. They knew their love was able to over come all obstacles. 

End.


End file.
